Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1887-01-27
Behind the Counter.

'My first day at the store p said Car
ry Wallingford, with a curious thrill
through her, as if an ice cold stream
were trickling down the line of her spi-
nal column. 'Oh,I wish were a rich
girl. and didn't have TO work p
Work is honorable, my child, said
old Uncle Wolsey, who, with his spec
tacles on his nose was trying to spell
through the ilIegibIe paragraphs of the
daily paper, mutterfng to himself that
either they didn't print as good as
they used to, or else his old eyesight
was falling
Yes, l know futtered Carry ; but
but I'm very willing that someone
else should have the honor this time
Uncle Wolsey turned his glasses with
mild reproach upon his niece's pink
and white balsam of face.
Il wish I could be as brave as you,
Uncle Wolsey = said Garry, as she
llSu TIC VI w iibtiO
capote under her round chin.
Old Wolsey Wallirgfnrd had shelter
ed his little pet lamb by his health fold
all her lifetime until now. He was a
jeweler by trade, and he had kept his
unpretending store open as long as
possible. But the tide of fashion went
by, and left him stranded on the un.
frequented side-street. where tie sign
of the tarnished silver watch attracted
no further attention.
And one day, when he had set all
day in the window with his magnify
ing glass, working at some impossible old
time piece, whose owner had died and
never called for it, twilight crept dark
ly over his eyesight and his heart. He
laid down tie tools.
'All day long, said he, 'and meyer a
customer Well-a-day it is time for
the old man to shut up his store at
| last
He went out and put up the wooden
shutters, " ith a heart that was heavier
than they, and from that time thence.
| forward the wooden imitation of the
silver watcn swung no longer oyer the
door.
Uncle Wolsey had been conquered in
life's battle, and had lald down his
arms. and now it was tl.at Garry re-
luctantly threw herself into the breach .
How could she let the dear old mali
starve ? And Mr.. Pickrell's fancy
and dry goods store on Sixth avenue
was really very creditable establish
ment, aud Mrs. Plckrell herself had
promised, from the severe heights of
the cashiers desk,t to keep an eye' upon
old Mr.. WallingfoId's niece, and il her
services proved desirable, there was no
sort Of doubt but that her salary would
be il creased in time.
So Carry butt0ne1 up her sack, drew
on her neat Isle tn cad gloves and took
the little basket. in which, wrapped III
napkin, was packed her lunch of ap-
pie pic and cheese, and went forth to
meet her new career, little reckoning
how brief it was to be.
At first it was not very pleaaant
The store was small and stuffy, with
gorgeous piles of cretonne and chint2
at the door, and festoons of laces, silk
handkerchiefs and colored jerseys flap.
ping against the head Of the girls be.
hind the counter, of whom there were
three besides Carry-bold, high-yoiced
damsels. who wore their hair down
oyer the bridge of their noses and gig
gled necessarily.
Customers came and went, charge
was made and paper parcels expedi
tiously wrapped up.
Mr.. Pickrell walked the floor Will
his hands in his pockets. ordered ava!
small girls whose noses were fattenec
too persistently against the window
outside, and smiled beamingly on oil